A Letter to My Ardent Fans
by PhantasyPhan13
Summary: I, Loki Laufeyson, am sick of all this garbage on what is known to mortals as the Internet insisting that I am some kind of wounded child who needs love to be saved. These young women just don't understand who I really am-a monster. Nothing more, and nothing less. I am so sick of this, in fact, that I need to address it in a letter to them. And here it is.


To Whom It May Concern:

I would like to comment on a rather amusing, if somewhat curious, trend that sees to be common among the squealing young females who grovel at my feet. Rather than seeing me as the magnificent, handsome, and cunning being that I am, these poor misguided fools insist that I am a wounded creature whose bleeding heart can be healed with love and cookies.

Interestingly, they seem to believe that I am a broken child whose questionable deeds can be explained away by my tragic past. I believe that, in the often-mysterious and highly impenetrable world of these female fanatics, this practice is referred to as "woobification", and even some fans themselves appear annoyed by it.

For those of you who wholly and unfailingly believe me to be the man that these "woobifying" fans paint me as, I would like to lay these claims to rest. For the record, the only woman who has ever hugged or kissed me without having snakes set on her was my dear departed mother, Frigga. And even with all of her touching, ceaseless love and support, she could not save me from the monster whom I have become.

In fact, I am quite beyond saving. Father had his chance to praise me when I rescued him from the Frost Giants and attempted to erase their threat to Asgard forever, and I most surely would have received that oft-dreamed-of approval had my brother not gone strangely soft after his time with that abominable mortal woman and insisted on saving his foes. I still fail to understand his motivations, and I still resent him for ruining my chances of finally getting Father to truly appreciate me.

Regardless of my own personal foibles, I find it quite confusing that young females think that, with the love of a good woman, I could be fixed and return to the side of good. I, in truth, have no time for romance. And while I do agree that the Avengers consist of men and women quite pleasing to the eye, the idea of dating any of them repulses me. Why in the Nine Realms would I date the allies of my brother-the brother under whose shadow I suffered for years, no less? I am utterly baffled by all of these nonsensical 'ships' that these fans have dreamed up for me. (I admit to creating the rather infamous Thorki ship as a joke, but it seems that many fans took it far too seriously. I sometimes wonder if these particular mortals even have a sense of humor, as they seem to take even the smallest things far too seriously.)

Furthermore, I would like it to be known that I am not your precious cinnamon roll, or your boyfriend, or your fix-it project, or your baby, or your what-have-you. I am Loki. Whatever soft side I once possessed has disappeared forever. After all, one must be strong and a master of one's emotions if one is to be king.

And I cannot stress this often enough, it seems: I despise mortals with every bone in my body. They are petty. They always squabble over the most trivial of cares while their world falls to ruins around them. They are weak, pathetic, idiotic, and utterly worthless. I could easily have ruled over these ridiculous beings if the Avengers, in their bizarre concern for these creatures (though perhaps their concern stems from the fact that most of them are human themselves, despite their altered forms), had not stopped me.

So why, in so many stories created by these devoted fans, do I fall for a mortal girl and redeem myself? Aside from the fact that, as I mentioned, I have no love for mortals ( and especially not laughably pitiful adolescents, female or not), I have no interest in redemption. I have fully accepted my status as a monster perpetually cast into the shadows, for all my plans have fallen to ruins at my feet and I have come to realize that my father shall never accept me.

Besides, now that I am almost universally reviled, I have far more freedom to plot and deceive as I please than I ever had before. I delight in spreading this chaos, and redemption would not only mean handing over some of this freedom in exchange for a clean slate, but also rejoining Asgard. And, as I doubt the denizens of my former home would accept me and I do not wish to be subject to their incessant mockery and give up my newly-claimed throne, I will never allow myself redemption for as long as I still breathe.

So please, I beg of you, those who read my words: Cease writing me this way at once. While I appreciate your pity and concern, laughable as it is, your soiling of my rather noble visage distresses me greatly. Take more pains to represent me more accurately in the future, or else you shall be hearing from me again. I can assure you that this second letter shall be far less pleasant than the first.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Planning for the downfall of Asgard does require an awful lot of one's concentration and energies, after all.

Sincerely yours,

Loki Laufeyson, King of Asgard in All Its Noble Glory


End file.
